Knitting Us Back Together
by ChristineMarie94
Summary: Molly muses over her sweaters and her family in the aftermath of the war.


There used to be a time when you could start knitting in November and have all of your sweaters done by Christmas. Of course, there were so few to knit in those days. One for Arthur of course, one for Bill, and one for Charlie. They all got their initial, and they all got something personal. An earring for Charlie (oh how you'd regret that later) and a rubber duck for Arthur. When Percy came along, you started a few days earlier in November, and they were still done just on time.

Then there was the twins. They did seem to complicate everything, didn't they? The sweaters were started in October then, and sometimes unraveled and restarted because someone had decided to dip all of your knitting needles in chocolate sauce and tell Percy they were pretzels. Lucky for him (and your dental bills) he was smart enough to never accept food from George without checking it first. Percy was always a smart boy; a little lost at times, but smart enough to find his way home.

When Ron and Ginny arrived, you realized you'd have to begin your sweaters earlier then ever before. The beginning of October was your new beginning point. With two young ones in the house, there never seemed to be enough time to knit in secret, although, lets be honest, everyone knew that a Weasley Sweater was going to be under the tree. It was easier when the twins started at Hogwarts, and then harder due to the constant owls from Minerva informing you they'd blown up yet another toilet. (Did they do that? Or was that Charlie?)

When they were all at Hogwarts, you at first thought things would get easier. All the free time in the world to knit, but of course, you forgot to factor in the new additions. Charlie's had to be done early to make it to Romania by Christmas, and Bill's had to be sent to Egypt. Then there was Harry's sweater to be thought of (the poor thing, Ronald said that he'd never had a present before) and Hermione's as well. They weren't Weasley's, but with how Ron talked of Hermione, you had a feeling she would be, and Harry. Well, he was just Harry wasn't he? Lilly wouldn't have minded him having a little extra mothering. The boy certainly needed it.

With every year there were new additions. Sirius needed a sweater, you decided, as did Remus. You contemplated knitting one for Severus, but you realized the thought would be lost, and settled for just leaving the tea on for him when you knew he was arriving at the order. Sirius's sweater was later replaced by Nymphadora's sweater (made in matching colors as Remus'. If he wouldn't admit his love for her, at least they'd look nice together.) Dumbledore's sweater was handed to him with a bashful smile, and you pretended not to see the tears slide into his beard. Of course, that was the last year he was with you.

The next year was the hardest for you. Your family scattered, and still, you knit. Arthur's was easy. Charlie's was handed to him in person for the first time in years. Bill and Fleur's had wedding bells, and were sent to Shell Cottage in the most festive paper you could find. (anything to distract from the war surrounding you.) Remus and Tonks' were sent, as well as a tiny one for the new baby on the way, and another for Tonks' mother. (You'd only met her once, but the extra knitting was distracting.) Fred and George's were in a horrendous scarlet that matched the decorations in the shop. (That damned shop. The one they refused to leave and come visit you, even for Christmas.) Kingsley's sweater was purple, and you were sure, never worn. Ginny's was more subdued then in the past, even her tenacity was beginning to fade in the war. All of your children were growing up far too fast. Entire childhoods shaped and shattered by this war. Three sweaters remained wrapped and waiting in the living room. You try to ignore them as time goes by. You knew they wouldn't be home for Christmas (how funny that over the years, you never questioned saying that The Burrow was their home.) Those would stay wrapped for a while you knew. No matter how much you wanted them too, the Golden Trio (who was it that had first called them that?) couldn't take a break for unwrapping presents.

That May, your world was saved, but it was also ended. Your family was made whole, and it was torn apart. Lucky for you, you'd always been good at mending holes in important fabrics. (There were days when you doubted that even you could mend this. There were days when you didn't know if you wanted to. It was so painful.) Your Percy was home. He lived back at The Burrow now, making up for those lost years you assumed. Harry and Ginny were together, as were Ron and Hermione. They did well together, all of them. They were fixing each other, slowly, and that was all that could be expected. George was living above his shop, and Ron went everyday to help him. You tried to talk him into coming home, to being with the family, but everything in the Burrow hurt him. (How well you knew that feeling. Had Fred's personality always filled every corner of the house like this?) He came for dinner every once in a while. Often enough to stop you from flooing over and demanding that he come home with you this instant (when had they-he. It was a singular now wasn't it? When had he listened to you.) but far enough apart that every morning you thought about it over your breakfast tea.

That year, you began your sweaters in September. There were just so many. Arthur (would a rubber duck do? Or had you already used that?), Bill, Fleur (in maternity sizes now, although as radiant as ever), Charlie (heading straight back to Romania after the battle. He never could greave at home), Percy (finally home, and wearing his sweaters happily), George (You knitted him two sweaters. One with an F on it. You knew he still wore Fred's sweaters some days), Ron and Hermione (matching sweaters, in clashing colors. You hadn't noticed till they'd been done, but really, when had they ever agreed?) and your two youngest, Harry and Ginny. That Christmas was not the first time a happy day started out with crying. It was, however, the first time that George comforted you.

"Mum, you gave me two sweaters."

"I know dear. I thought, you might have wanted to wear…"

"Just wanted to make sure you knew. It wouldn't have been the first time you got us confused."

There it was, that us. The words that everyone had danced around for months. It was slow, and judging by the tears in George's eyes, he didn't realize what he had said until it was too late, but it was a start. And that was good enough for you.


End file.
